After all these years of blogging, I don't believe I've shared one of my favorite poems with you -- The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.
There are lines and stanzas in this poem so beautiful that they immediately embedded themselves in my memory, and come to mind unbidden now and then. Just happened, so I'm sharing:
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."
You can read the entire beautiful poem here.